COLPORTEUR  SONGS, 

^&&x\ttzn  Cor  tfje  American  ifEessenjjet, 

NEW  LONDON,  CONN, 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2013 


http://archive.org/details/colporteursongswOOcaul 


COLPORTEUR  SONGS. 


•THE   COLPORTEUR. 

What  courteous  stranger  at  the  door, 

Bowed  with  his  burden,  stands  ? 
He  brings,  perchance,  a  precious  store 
Of  gems,  or  pearls,  or  golden  ore, 
Or  tidings  from  far  lands. 

His  bearing  frank,  his  gentle  mien, 

A  welcome  entrance  win  : 
The  shining  seal  of  heaven  is  seen 
Imprinted  on  his  brow  serene, 

Proclaiming  peace  within. 

See,  he  unlades  ! — his  ready  hand 

The  imprisoned  wealth  betrays  ; 
Light  breaks  from  every  bursting  band- 
The  loosened  gems  like  rays  expand — 
The  diamonds,  how  thev  blaze  ! 


THE    COLPORTEim. 

Not  earth's  poor  sparkling  dust — not  gold- 

Not  gems  from  sea  or  mine  : 
The  soul's  rich  wealth  is  there  unrolled; 
The  noblest  words  of  worthies  old, 

Thoughts  high  and  songs  divine. 

His  gems  are  books,  and  fervent  prayers, 

Warnings  and  counsels  kind  : 
Letters  from  his  dear  Lord  he  bears, 
And  news  from  heaven  of  high  affairs. 

For  man's  great  good  designed. 

Gems  rich  in  light — the  Call,  the  Rise, 

The  Progress  and  the  Rest ; 
Persuasives,  Guides  to  yonder  skies, 
Alarms,  Appeals  and  Counsels  wise, 
And  Fountains  for  the  blest. 

The  pens  that  traced  these  words  of  fire 

Dipped  deep  into  the  heart : 
See  !  they  convince,  persuade,  inspire ; 
Breathe  peace,  wake  ravishing  desire, 

And  hope  and  joy  impart. 

Hark  !   for  the  stranger's  voice  is  heard, 

Waking  the  slumbering  mind : 
Tears  fall  like  rain-drops  at  his  word. 
And  list'ning  hearts  like  leaves  are  stirred 

When  breathes  the  sweet  south  wind. 


THE    COLPORTEUR. 

He  speaks  again,  in  accents  low, 

Of  Christ  and  all  his  love  ; 
His  mingled  cup  of  myrrh  and  wo, 
The  pangs  he  bore  for  man  below, 

The  throne  he  fills  above. 

Book-bearer ! — O  what  name  more  blest, 

More  welcome  to  lone  hearts  ! 
He  brings  a  gem  for  every  breast — 
A  stranger  came  : — a  cherished  guest. 
A  bosom-friend  departs. 

On  !   on  !     The  light  thou  bear'st  impart ; 

Sow  thick  the  golden  seed  ; 
Through  every  door,  on  every  heart 
The  sun-beam  of  the  Gospel  dart  : 

Speed  with  thy  jewels,  speed  ! 


THE    COLPORTEUR   S    SONG 


(Tune,   What  is  Life?     Sacred  Songs,  314.) 


Oil  through  woodlands  dark  and  dreary, 
Though  my  lonely  coarse  I  take, — 

Climbing  now  the  mountains  weary, 
Threading  now  the  dangerous  brake,— 

Sweetening  solitude  with  prayer, 

Cheerily  my  books  I  bear. 

Night  to  me  can  bring  no  terror, 
Deserts  lone  no  chilling  fear ; 

Christ  within,  my  shield  from  error. 
Faith  and  Hope  my  way-mates  dear ; 

All  around  me  angel-throngs. 

Holy  thoughts  and  heavenly  songs. 

Oft  1  taste  divinest  pleasure 

By  the  way-side  as  I  read  : 
Opening  here  and  there  my  treasure, 

I  upon  its  honey  feed. 
Every  sentence  there  enrolled 
Thrills  like  music — shines  like  gold. 

O  how  sweet  to  dwellings  lonely 
Leaves  of  heavenly  truth  to  bear ! 

Dropping  print  where  printing  only 
(yomes  to  bring  salvation  there  : 

Kindling  in  each  house  a  flame 

With  my  Savior's  glowing  name. 


THE    COLPOKTEUR'S    SONGJ. 

Baxter^ s  heavenly  Rest  possessing, 
What  a  glow  it  spreads  around  ! 

Vacant  shelves  receive  the  blessing, 
Lonely  hearts  a  friend  have  found. 

He  who  brings  the  welcome  guest — 

He  who  takes  him — both  how  blest ! 

Bunyan,  0  thy  precious  dreaming, 
How  it  charms  the  listening  ear ! 

Young  and  old,  with  faces  beaming, 
Group  the  Pilgrim'' s  tale  to  hear : 

Learning  from  the  lessons  given 

All  the  wondrous  way  to  heaven. 

Nor  in  vain  to  bosoms  thirsting, 
Flavel,  does  thy  Fountain  flow — 

Stricken  hearts,  with  anguish  bursting, 
Owen  points  you  where  to  go. 

Weary  pilgrim,  seeking  rest. 

Wear  these  jewels  on  your  breast. 

Thus  with  hymns  and  heavenly  musing 

Daily  I  my  course  pursue, 
All  my  single  talent  using. 

Loving  well  the  work  I  do, — 
Trusting  in  my  Savior's  care, 
Cheerily  my  books  I  bear  ! 


THE  COLPORTEUR'S  WELCOME.* 


By  darksome  forests  shaded  o'er, 

A  rude  log-cabin  see  : 
The  mother  sits  beside  the  door, 

Her  children  at  her  knee. 
She  hears  far  off  an  echoing  voice, 

She  hears  a  foot-fall  light  ; 
Her  heart  leaps  up,  she  cries,  *'  Rejoice  ! 

We  shall  be  blest  to-night. 

'  The  evening  wind  a  murmur  brings 
Of  some  good  angel  near ; 
And  hark  !  I  hear  the  song  he  sings 
Tn  accents  lovv^  and  clear. 


*  '-In  passing  through  a  very  destitute  neighborhood  I  called  on  Mrs. 
M  ,  who  told  me  she  had  not  had  an  opportunity  of  going  to  meeting 

any  where  for  years  ;  she  did  not  live  near  any  place  of  public  preaching 
and  had  no  conveyance ;  desired  much  to  join  some  christian  church,  but 
never  had  an  opportunity.  I  knew  her  husband  was  a  dissipated  man 
and  very  poor ;  yet  I  saw  before  me  a  delicate-looking  woman,  surround- 
ed by  ten  bright,  interesting  children,  the  eldest  about  sixteen,  all  looking 
clean  and  neat;  and  she  informed  me  she  had  taught  several  of  the  eldest 
to  read,  though  they  had  never  been  to  school.  I  asked  her  what  books 
she  had?  She  replied,  two  pieces  of  spelling-books  and  a  part  of  an 
old  Bible.  I  gave  her  a  volume  in  the  name  of  the  Society ;  and  while 
m  the  midst  of  her  children  (to  whom  I  gave  Tracts  and  one  or  two  small 
volumes)  she  expressed  her  sincere  thanks,  tears  of  gratitude  gathering  in 
her  eyes.    I  also  procured  her  a  Bible." 

Letter  Jrom  the  Hon.F.  E.  M ,  of  Kentucky. 


THE    colporteur's    WELCOME.  9 

I  see  him  through  the  trees  advance, 

Along  the  path- way  sure  ; 
I  know  his  kind,  his  cheerful  glance — 

'Tis  he — the  Colporteur! 

'*  The  brightness  of  his  presence  shines 

Before  him  on  the  way: 
Haste,  haste,  my  children,  through  the  pines, 

And  guide  him  lest  he  stray. 
That  voice  I  know  a  blessing  bears, 

That  hand  a  balm  to  cure ; 
The  grief  he  cannot  heal,  he  shares — 

God  bless  the  Colporteur!'' 

''  O  welcome  from  thy  weary  way, 

Come  in,  thou  long  desired  ! 
Come  in,  we'll  wear  the  night  away 

With  prayers  and  songs  inspired. 
No  Sabbath-bell  salutes  our  ears, 

No  preacher's  doctrine  pure  ; 
No  book  of  God  our  fireside  cheers — - 

Thrice  welcome,  Colporteur ! 

'^  Borne  down  by  sin,  I  daily  groan, 

Salvation  is  my  cry ; 
These  few  worn  gospel  leaves,  alone. 

Have  pointed  me  on  high  : 
Hast  thou  no  heavenly  gift  to  charm 

The  anguish  I  endure  ] 
No  Sharon's  Rose,  no  Gilead's  Balm 

For  me,  O  Colporteur  ? 


10  THE    colporteur's    WELCOME. 

'*  I've  heard  that  thou  dost  jewels  bear 

That  burn  like  stars  at  night ; 
Rich  gems  engraved  by  masters  rare, 

And  filled  v\^ith  heavenly  light. 
O  give  me  one,  from  tempting  sin 

My  weak  heart  to  secure ; 
ril  keep  the  talisman  within, 

And  bless  the  Colporteur." 

O  not  in  vain  that  touching  plea, 

The  wife's,  the  mother's  prayer  ; 
Instruction,  like  a  planted  tree. 

Shall  make  that  desert  fair. 
The  word  of  God — books — heavenly  light, 

The  Gospel,  free  and  pure, 
By  these  we  track  thy  pathway  bright, 

O  heaven-sent  Colporteur  ! 


THE  COLPORTEUR'S  APPEAL. 

WRITTEN    FOR  THE  LADIES'  COLPORTEUR  ASSOCIATION    OF    THE 
MERCER-STREET    CHURCH,    NEW-YORK. 

The  Colporteur  sat  by  a  fount  in  the  wild- wood ; 

Unloosened,  his  treasures  were  spread  on  the  ground ; 
The  Psalm  for  the  aged,  the  sweet  song  for  childhood, 

The  Bible,  the  volume,  lay  shining  around. 

He  mused — in  his  bosom  a  bright  lamp  was  burning — 
He  lay  down  to  rest,  but  he  soon  knelt  to  pray ; 

For  his  heart  o'er  the  lost  and  the  lonely  was  yearning. 
O'er  men  that  like  leaves  were  fast  dropping  away. 

So  white  was  the  harvest  that  spread  out  before  him, 
So  vast — and  the  reapers  so  few  in  the  glade ; 

He  grasped  in  his  anguish  the  mercy-seat  o'er  him, 
And  clung  to  the  robe  of  his  Savior  for  aid. 

"  O  Father!  Redeemer  !  behold,  men  are  dying ! 

"O  who  will  bring  food  to  the  famishing  mind? 
"Unlettered,  ungospelled,  these  wide  wastes  are  lying, 

"  No  balm  for  the  wounded,  no  light  for  the  blind. 

'*  O  God  !  give  us  seed  in  these  lands  to  be  sowing, 
"  Give  us  tongues,  give  us  feet  with  thy  tidings  to  run  ; 

**  Let  Zion's  young  host  o'er  the  mountains  come  flowing, 
"  There's  room  for  a  thousand  where  now  is  but  one  !" 


12  THE    COLPORTEUR  S    APPEAL, 

He  ceasM — and  sweet  Patience,  like  down  falling  round  him, 
Suffused  him  with  peace  as  he  went  on  his  way  ; 

And  the  bright  angel  Hope  cheerly  cried,  as  she  found  him, 
"  There's  light  in  the  East !  'tis  the  breaking  of  day  I" 

Is  it  so  ?     Are  our  true  hearts  their  efforts  all  blending, 
To  publish,  to  scatter,  to  pour  out  truth's  tide  ? 

Are  the  beautiful  feet  to  their  missions  ascending — 
The  printed  truth  running  swift  by  their  side  1 

O  thou  who  didst  watch  thy  dear  Lord  in  his  prison, 

Sweet  WOMAN  !  stand  forth  and  advance  his  high  throne  : 

As  then  thy  blest  voice  cried,  **  The  Lord,  he  is  risen !" 
So  now  let  thy  word  and  thy  works  make  him  known. 

There  is  wilderness  yet — there  is  darkness  like  Edom; 

O  ne'er  let  the  mighty  Book-banner  be  furled 
Till  the  star-light  of  knowledge,  the  moon-light  of  freedom. 

The  Gospel's  clear  sun-light  illumine  the  world  ! 


END. 


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